


A Balm for All Wounds

by Blacksailsimagines



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, One-Shot, Reader Insert, Romance, Strong Language, imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacksailsimagines/pseuds/Blacksailsimagines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the imagine: Imagine you’re the one who Jack sends to patch Charles up after he’s been in yet another fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Balm for All Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on an imagine submitted to http://blacksailsimagines.tumblr.com/ - Check it out for more drabbles and imagines :)

Marching through the alleyways of Nassau at just before dawn wasn’t your idea of fun, but Jack had ‘persuaded’ you to do it anyway.

‘ _Your Captain needs you_ ,’ he’d said, knowing you’d be unable to refuse helping.

‘ _He’s not my Captain any longer_ ,” you’d snapped back. But even so, here you are, stomping through the dusty back streets towards the harbour. You grumble at your own weakness, thinking you’d given up your addiction to the man long ago.

With the sun barely breaking over the horizon, streaks of pale light cutting through the misty dark, you manage to maze your way through the tents and head towards where you knew he would be.

Yanking back the curtain, you stumble to a stop, your heart sinking to your stomach and a frown knotting your brow.

“Vane…” Your voice is barely audible, but it’s enough to rouse the man from his drunken slumber.

He rolls onto his back, his chest exposed and marred with bloodied wounds and fresh bruises. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he growls.

You cock your head to one side. “Someone has to patch you up. You couldn’t have avoided getting into a fight for just one night?”

He says nothing, taking a swig out of the bottle he grasps in his hand as though it were his life’s blood.

You wrinkle your nose, able to smell the pungent alcohol even from the entrance of the tent. He must be real desperate to resort to that stuff.

When he flops back down to sleep, you bustle forwards, ripping the bottle from his hands and placing it out of his reach.

“No,” you order as he lunges to retake the bottle, “time to get up.” His hands fumble to push you away, but he’s either too weak or hung-over to accomplish it.

You struggle to move his muscled bulk onto the nearby chair and he grunts in pain at the movement.

“Serves you right,” you mumble, turning away to try and find something at least a little clean to use as a washcloth.

“You didn’t have to come,” he says, and you glance over your shoulder to find him glaring at you.

“Of course I did,” you reply, partly hoping he hadn’t heard you.

After a few moments you’ve managed to gather a bowl of fresh water and some scraps of linen. You kneel down in front of him and inspect his wounds. They look sore, red, and bloody, but nothing deep.

“You’ll heal,” you inform him, dipping a cloth into the bowl, the chill of the water making you shiver. Pressing the cloth against the largest wound on his shoulder, you can feel him tense beneath your touch but he doesn’t make a sound, not even a hiss of pain. You half-smile. “So, what was the issue you took offence at this time?”

He shrugs. “I don’t remember.”

You believe him, his breath tinged with the scent of alcohol.

For the next ten minutes, you clean his wounds in silence, but a heat rises to your skin when his gaze begins to focus on nothing but you. You can’t tell if he’s pleased you’re there or if not. The last time you two had been in the same room, it hadn’t ended well.

You can barely even remember what had started the heated argument, but you definitely remember how your tempers had led to a falling out that had cut deeper than anything you’d ever felt before- a wound that no medicine or balm could heal.

You rock back onto your heels, giving a pleased nod at your work. “Finished.” You glance up to meet his narrowed gaze. “But you’ll still need to rest.”

He doesn’t resist this time as you lead him over to the makeshift bed, dressed in a variety of rich fabrics.

“And try to stay out anymore fights, will you.” You sit beside him as he lays back, splaying himself across the thin mattress.

“Would you come back to tend me if I did?” he asks, raising a brow.

You let out a heavy sigh. “You know I would.” It’s a struggle to rip your eyes from his, the intensity of his gaze sending a flurry of excitement coursing through your body. You look away, taking a steadying breath. “Just… be careful.”

As you stand to leave, his hand reaches out, his fingers wrapping gently around yours. You sit back down, the course skin of his hands rough against your own, but a feeling you had longed for every day since leaving him.


End file.
